


all bark and all bite

by astrogeny



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sparring, the lucisev agenda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrogeny/pseuds/astrogeny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the kinds of vulnerable sides she loves to see in Lucina, the ones that almost make her feel special by proxy of Lucina’s radiant fallibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all bark and all bite

**Author's Note:**

> somehow a small lucisev idea turned into this monstrosity? it’s the longest thing i’ve written in quite a long while, so i’m p satisfied, tho! the bit at the beginning abt owain’s style is a reference to s/t that i think is p common fanon, that he mixed some elements of lucina’s royal style w/his own myrmidon moves, wherever he learned those. in general w/the fight scene, i tried to base their attacks more on the ingame animations than specific real-life swordfighting, which i’ll admit i’m not super-familiar with. anyways, here’s severa being really gay and thirsty and lucina being unwittingly dashing and attractive.

Sparring with Lucina is an event Severa reserves only for the rare days when she's feeling like her bite is actually as bad as her bark.  It's almost an exercise in hubris, given that she tends to end up up slinking away from a bout to lick her wounds and feel sorry for herself, thinking that she could actually match Lucina with her own lousy skills.  For now, though, she rides the high, willing to believe for a little bit that she must be somewhat competent.  If she were a total failure, Lucina would just impale her in one go and be done with it.  To be able to push Lucina, to make her sweat, to make her cheeks flush with exertion, to make her show any signs of imperfection at all--it makes her more fallible to Severa.  Granted, fallibility isn't necessarily a desirable trait for a leader, but it's something Severa almost clings to in a lover, that Lucina breathes and bleeds just the same as she does.  

Alone together in a practice court, they square off for a third bout.  The score (which Severa is likely the only one keeping track of) is one to one, and Severa is feeling like a tiebreaker today.  She shifts her right foot back into a fighting stance, knees bent, her shield arm forward.  Though she isn't wearing her shoulder guard, the posture is a habit.  The sense of strength and balance it gives her outweighs the vague embarrassment of standing with her legs so far apart, lending a swaggering sort of mien to her posture.  In direct contrast, Lucina carries herself tighter and more dignified as she raises her mock Falchion directly parallel to her body in a solemn salute.  She almost glides into her own stance, not so much a wide challenge as a brief resting point in the beautiful, relentless flow of the royal form.

Seeing Owain's bastardized version of the technique always fools Severa into thinking she can handle Lucina's style, that she'll be ready when Lucina's bent sword arm extends in a deadly flash, the well-balanced force followed by her body as she cuts at Severa's chest.  Severa brings up her own blade to block the blow, and it's only when she overcompensates the forcefulness of the block that she realizes that this is just a beat.  Her body still tensed to brace against a harder impact, Severa's slow reaction is rewarded with a sharp jab in the shoulder from the point of Lucina's practice sword.  Hissing through her teeth, Severa ruefully notes that the blow would have glanced off her shoulder shield, then immediately scolds herself for worrying about what-ifs.  She knows (both of them know) that there's no room to claim you would have won if you'd had some extra advantage when you're dead.  Theirs has not been a life that allows for excuses.

All of this cycles through some distant place at the back of Severa's head in a matter of moments as she recovers from the blow and counters with one of her own, a harsh sideways swing meant to jar Lucina's sword-holding wrist rather than to take the hand off entirely, as it would with live steel.  Lucina skips back out of reach, but only barely.  Unwilling to give her an opening, Severa presses forward and comes down hard with the intent to make her blows hurt, even if Lucina blocks them.  Getting so close makes her easier to hit, but it also makes it harder for Lucina to get some space for something fancy that would be lethal in real combat.  

Severa knows, even at her most mullish, that she has the upper hand on Lucina in terms of raw strength.  When the side of her blade connects with Lucina's collarbone, Lucina cries out for a pained instant before she bites the noise off.  This close, Severa can see the sweat-darkened hair clinging to the curves of Lucina's neck, the glimmer of the Brand in her eye.  Lucina brings her blade back up into a fierce arc towards Severa's stomach, forcing her to create distance between them in order to avoid getting hit by a blow she knows she couldn't have blocked in time.  If Severa beats out Lucina in power, though, Lucina makes up for it with her sheer speed.  With sufficient room, she lunges with a thrust aimed right at Severa's chest.  Severa twists her torso only fast enough to dodge the brunt of the attack, which still clips her along the side.  

In an aggressive instant, Lucina draws back, then repeats the lunge with a horizontal slash meant to cut straight through her opponent.  Her technique is one borrowed from the pegasus knights, a first attack followed by a pass that cuts the attacker through to the other side, and it is just as swift as if Lucina were mounted on a pegasus herself.  She comes in low, and Severa is already beginning the first half of a riposte when she happens to glance down Lucina's loose neckline.  Gaping like the village yokel at the sight of Lucina's bare breasts beneath her shirt, Severa promptly has the wind knocked out of her by Lucina's strike driving home.

She stumbles back, clutching feebly at her stomach with one hand and clenching her sword in a tight, desperate fist with the other.  The flow of Lucina's attacks comes to an immediate halt, the keenness of battle immediately replaced by concern.

"Severa!"  Lucina exclaims, rushing to her side.  "Forgive me, I fear I may have gotten somewhat competitive just then."  Wheezing, Severa frowns and shakes her head dismissively.  Out of the two of them, Lucina is hardly the one who should be worrying about competitiveness.  Besides, there's a far more pressing matter at hand.

"Never mind that!" snaps Severa the instant she can draw a full breath.  "Lucina, you, you're not wearing a--" cutting herself off as she gesticulates vaguely over her own breasts, "Well, you're not wearing anything!  Under there!"  She points accusingly in the general direction of Lucina's chest, and Lucina follows the line of her finger with her gaze.  For a moment, it doesn't even seem to occur to her what the issue is supposed to be, until she begins to laugh as the impetus for Severa's scandalized reaction dawns on her.  As annoyed as Severa is for the sake of Lucina's reputation, the way the corners of Lucina's eyes crinkle when she smiles makes her thrill in a way that has nothing to do with the adrenaline of their spar.

"Oh, Severa, I hardly have anything there to speak of, so I see no need to wear anything else.  My clothing is tight enough to prevent what little discomfort it might cause me, more often than not."  Severa is absolutely gobsmacked by Lucina's frankness--its source is completely innocuous, rather than crude.  Somehow, in Lucina's usually-sensible mind, there is absolutely nothing wrong with admitting to habitually going without a bra.  She groans in a mixture of frustration, secondhand embarrassment, and a sense of desire she could really go without feeling right now.

"Lucina, look.  You're a _lady_ , okay?  Maybe you can get away with it when you're wearing a high-collared shirt, but not in that thing!  Do you know how many men would just be able to look down and see _everything_?  A princess should exhibit a little modesty, here."  Severa neglects to add that she'd very much like to keep Lucina's breasts a sight for her eyes alone.  She doesn't think about what that makes her in comparison to any men who might be looking down Lucina's shirt.

"I very much doubt many men would take an interest in what little I have to offer.  Besides," fixing Severa with a gaze that borders on teasing, "The only one looking down my shirt at the moment appears to be you."  Severa swears that Lucina's voice drops in pitch when she gets like this, growing husky and warm with a sensuality she doubts Lucina even consciously means to exude.  What must it be like, Severa wonders, to be able to unwittingly hold such power over someone else?  She tries to imagine herself with the same sway over Lucina's devotion and comes up with nothing.  Her heart flutters like some mooning maiden's, and she turns her head sharply to the side in order to avoid meeting Lucina's gaze.

Severa scoffs, "Better me than some other creep.  And I don't want to hear you going on about how you're not actually that attractive, because believe me, any number of bozos would cut their left ear off to see what I just saw."

Lucina seems to puzzle over Severa's exaggeration for a moment, no doubt imagining some man literally chopping off his own ear in exchange for a look at her shirtless.  The fine art of hyperbole continues to be lost on her.

"All the same," she begins, having given up on Severa's latest and greatest exaggerated turn of phrase, "You had best see Brady about your stomach.  I would hate for you to suffer a bruise in such a painful area on my account."  Severa bites back a retort about how every bruise she suffers is for Lucina's sake, if you look at it in a certain way.  No one needs that degree of cloying chivalry in their life.  

"Fine--as long as you see him about your collarbone.  Deal?"  A momentary look of confusion flits across Lucina's face, her brow furrowed as she presses her fingers gingerly to her collarbone.  Touching it obviously reminds her of the blow Severa had landed, and she winces a little.  How she so routinely manages to forget about her own pain in the face of another's would border on saintly if Severa had never seen Lucina lick her own wounds in private before.  Again, she is filled with a guilty sense of satisfaction, to be close enough to Lucina to see her hurt and then help her heal.  Not that she wants Lucina to be hurt in the first place--better her, someone expendable and self-deprecating enough to take the blows and feel like she deserves them.  Severa declines to imagine how stupid she must look to Lucina, constantly mooning over her at the weirdest intervals.

"Deal," Lucina agrees firmly.  "Now then, I think we ought to call it a day for now--at least, so far as sparring is concerned.  I'm on mess duty tonight, and I suppose it wouldn't do for me to go out and about in such a scandalous state, now would it?"

"What about the last round?"  Severa blurts, her pride temporarily eclipsing her concern for Lucina's deportment.

"What about it?"  When Lucina echoes Severa's words, it is not mocking, simply a question.

"Who won?  You, probably."  It smarts to admit as much, but Severa has only her own inane desires to blame for that.

"I would be far more inclined to call it a draw," admits Lucina.  Severa realizes her expression must look even more disdainful than usual, because Lucina quickly amends herself.  "Or perhaps we can even declare it unfinished?  We could pick up from where we left off whenever it suits you."

"Whatever, that's fine by me."  Frankly, Severa is too winded and tired to press an issue she never should have brought to the table in the first place.  She just hopes Lucina actually has the good sense to put a bra on now.

-

Severa finally resigns herself to looking at her stomach later that evening (much too late--she has a strict self-imposed curfew for beauty sleep purposes), having rushed through her bath while most people were at dinner.  Though she'd struck her deal with Lucina, she'd found herself unable to go see Brady about the matter.  Adjusting her unwieldy camp mirror to show her bare stomach in the flickering light of the lantern, Severa winces at the blotchy, tender bruise already spreading all over her skin.

"Severa?"  She nearly jumps, hearing the voice just outside the door flap of her tent.  "May I come in for a moment?" Lucina asks.  Turned around, Severa can now make out a faint silhouette outside the canvas.

"Just, just wait a moment!"  Severa exclaims, a sense of hurried panic spiking through her as she fumbles to shove her nightshirt back on.  Not that it matters when Lucina's seen her fully naked, but she's not going to let Lucina in while she's half-undressed like some sort of waiting courtesan.  

Fully dressed, Severa rushes to undo the tent flap, revealing Lucina in full.  She carries no light, but the night is bright with a nearly-full moon that plays across the edges of her dark hair like Falchion's gleaming edge.  She's also still wearing that silly shirt from their earlier spar, which now looks particularly lascivious in the way its neckline is almost wide enough to show a slip of Lucina's shoulder.  Her throat and collarbone  are bared with a casual intimacy entirely unsuited to such a simple piece of clothing.

Grimly quashing her wanton observations, Severa ushers Lucina in and quickly reties the tent flap.  Even if most people would simply see this as a visit between bosom friends, Severa has no desire for anyone to know just how well-acquainted with Lucina's bosom she really is.

"I won't trouble you long--I know how you value your sleep.  I simply wanted to check in on your stomach," Lucina explains.

"Um," is Severa's slow-witted, useless reply.  Caught red-handed.  Lucina's eyes narrow a bit.

"You haven't been to see Brady, have you?"

"Well, neither have you, evidently," Severa retorts, indicating Lucina's very much visible collarbone.  It sports a long red weal that vanishes below Lucina's neckline, and Severa immediately curses herself for her fixation on a ragged old shirt that wouldn't even look good if it didn't happen to be on Lucina's body.  To her surprise, Lucina averts her gaze in shame.

"I only found out after dinnertime that he was on cleanup detail, and by the time he would have been done, I would only have been troubling him late at night.  I had hoped you'd caught him prior to dinner."

"Ugh, and what was I supposed to say to him?  Somehow, I don't feel like 'Hey, Brady, I got suckerpunched by Lucina because I was too busy ogling her breasts' would cut it."  Besides, she's dealt with injuries far worse than a big bruise in a tender spot and gone without a healer to boot.  Though she's not keen on keeping scars, Severa is still acclimating herself to a world where staves are freely available from a supply convoy, rather than precious resources to be used only when someone's life is in real danger.

Lucina chuckles lightly at Severa's wry remark.  "Very well.  We will both have to see him together tomorrow, and I'm certain we can come up with a plausible excuse between the two of us."  After a moment, she asks quietly, "May I see it?"

Severa slides her shirt up to just beneath her ribcage by way of consent, feeling vaguely like a dog baring its stomach in hopes that its owner will pet it.  Lucina's fingers brush carefully over the bruised skin, and the touch goes straight down between Severa's legs.  Of course she would be turned on by Lucina doing something as stupidly simple as just touching her stomach.

"I hadn't meant to hurt you so," Lucina murmurs regretfully.  "I should have checked my blow--I'm so sorry."  Severa almost rolls her eyes, but checks herself because of how earnestly distraught Lucina seems to be over the matter.

"Um, no, you shouldn't have.  The whole point of sparring is to go all out without hacking each other to pieces with real weapons, so I'm not offended, for once.  Besides, you've apologized a billion times, so let's just let it be water under the bridge or whatever."

"Be that as it may, I want to keep you safe, yet here I am, battering you with a wooden Falchion like a child," Lucina insists.  It's almost as though she wants to be blamed, wants Severa to give her a scolding instead of forgiveness.  "And I know this must seem trite nonsense to you," she continues (she's partially right), "But please, for a moment, consider how important it is for me as a leader to keep you all safe.  It's...  It's odd for me, to have one foot on the side of command, where I must seem at all times impartial and resolute, while the other is on the side of friendship, where I care for each of you as individuals who are dear to me."  Lucina shakes her head.  "This isn't about me, though, so again, I am sorry for hurting you so."

Severa wordlessly leans into Lucina's shoulder, suppressing a groan.  Her arms slide loosely around Lucina's waist, and after a moment, Lucina's own arms come up around Severa's neck.  She seems almost surprised by such a tender gesture, as if she expects Severa to be nothing but sharp words and blunt edges.  If she feels that way, Severa can hardly blame her.

Now Severa has to make the feel-good speech, and it sucks.  It's not just her conscience nagging at her, telling her to be decent for once and show some sympathy--it's love and devotion, a sense of distress that Lucina is down on herself over something so ultimately trivial.  It should be the other way around, with Severa pissing and moaning over something meaningless until a few well-placed words from Lucina have her thinking that maybe she's worth something after all.  The reversal of their roles is a sign of trust that part of Severa almost revels in, but Lucina deserves better encouragement than anything she can get from Severa, of all people.

"Look, Lucina," says Severa, just to break the silence.  "I said it's fine, so it's fine.  You know that if I don't like something, I'm just going to come out and say it to your face, and I didn't, so...  Gawds," she concludes lamely.  She turns her head to the side, so that her cheek presses against the cool skin of Lucina's shoulder.  "That probably just made you feel worse.  Being nice and being eloquent are both hard enough on their own, never mind together!  I have no idea how you do it, honestly."

While Lucina makes no immediate response, she does lean down to press a light kiss to the top of Severa's head.  Her silence is her ambivalence, one that Severa is familiar with.  The feeling of wanting to be forgiven and move on while also wanting to continue self-deprecating without solving the problem is Severa's constant companion.  The feeling of Lucina's fingers trailing down her spine to trace the small of her back is a very different one entirely.  Severa starts, and Lucina immediately retracts her touch.

"Sorry," she says into Severa's hair.  She sounds for all the world like Noire right now, apologizing for apologizing after being told to stop all the apologizing in the first place.  Severa desperately wants the mood to change, resigning herself to the fact that she's going to have to be the one to slog through changing it.

"Did you come here to do anything besides grab my love handles?" Severa asks, hoping it sounds less acerbic than her remarks usually do.  Lucina pulls away a bit, and she looks less riddled with heroic anguish when Severa looks up at her.

"Severa, your musculature is quite enviable," she comments, earnest and oblivious.  "I would easily put you on par with Kjelle.  In truth, I love the way in which you so effortlessly seem to balance strength and poise--I fear I've left a great deal of my grace behind."  Like she isn't the most graceful thing in the world, like she doesn't make her ridiculous ribbed leggings or a worn-out training shirt look amazing.

"This war's made me look more like a raw side of meat than a girl," Severa grumbles.  "Do you know how hard it is to find dresses that flatter my stupid broad shoulders and arm muscles?  Because it's really hard."  As she speaks, Severa realizes that Lucina's been looking at said arm muscles rather admiringly.  Lucina's no reedy maiden, but she's not exactly going around toting an axe, either.

"I imagine you're equal to the task," says Lucina, her expression finally softening.  "My intention was not to come here to unburden myself on you, though, and leave you feeling unpleasant."  One of her hands comes back up to cup Severa's chin.  "Let's not be at odds tonight, Severa."

Severa has her eyes closed and her lips parted before Lucina's even leaned in to kiss her, irked at her own helplessness whenever Lucina's voice grows husky and intimate.  Lucina clearly intends for the kiss to be open-mouthed from the start, her tongue making a slick pass against Severa's own.  When Severa moans a little, Lucina's leg comes up between hers with a rough sort of urgency, as if she's on some sort of time limit unbeknownst to Severa.  Normally, this is the kind of thing that makes Severa thrill with a need to be conquered down and roughed up, but Lucina's string of fast, wanting kisses still feels too much like an apology.  She pulls away.

"Let's change this up," Severa breathes, tightening her hold around Lucina's waist.  She feels absurd, trying to take on a dominant posture with over half a foot's difference in their heights that forces her to look up at Lucina.  There is, however, some benefit to being at eye level with Lucina's chest.  At these close quarters, with the fabric of her shirt drawn taut, Severa can quite clearly see that Lucina still isn't wearing a bra.  "Are you seriously still parading around like this?  I know you're tall and all, but plenty of people are still tall enough to see down your shirt!"

"I may have neglected to take your advice in my haste."  Lucina watches Severa watch her, that soft, commanding little smirk playing at her lips.

"So, what, are you trying to seduce me or something now?" Severa asks wryly.  Lucina actually blushes a little.  "Ohhhh my gawds."

"We must make do with what little we have," admits Lucina somewhat abashedly.  Severa decides in that moment that she can indeed match her bite to her bark, that she'll be taking charge for once.  She disentangles herself from Lucina and sits down on the edge of her cot.

"Here, come sit," she offers, gesturing to her lap.  Lucina, to Severa's mortification, sits beside her on the cot, looking at her expectantly.  "No, like...  On me.  You know," and she certainly hopes Lucina does, given how often she's dandled Severa on her own lap.

"I see," Lucina says, and then she's actually straddling Severa's lap, gaze warm and trusting.  Severa pulls her in by the nape of her neck, willing herself not to chicken out by keeping the momentum running.  She kisses Lucina's jawline, her cheek, the corner of her lips, then full on the mouth.  Lucina reciprocates eagerly, obligingly letting Severa set the pace and ignoring the fact that she's stalling for time to figure out what she's even supposed to do next.  When they part, Severa impulsively slides her hands under Lucina's shirt, finally pushing the stupid thing as far up Lucina's torso as it can go.  Her hands follow, running against bare skin, and Lucina arches into the touch.

"Take it off," Severa orders in what she thinks might pass for a suitably sensual voice.  Lucina complies, then folds her arms loosely over her midsection despite the fact that this covers nothing.  It's odd to see Lucina embarrassed, though it's equally odd to see Lucina relinquishing control, period.  "Don't tell me you're embarrassed now."

"Somewhat," Lucina confesses.  "Though I have no substantial reason to be."

"You've got that right."  Severa moves her hands up until they hit Lucina's crossed arms, waiting.  At the very least, Lucina can take a hint, letting her arms fall to her sides so that Severa can move up to her chest.  "You're gorgeous," she adds, wishing she had the vocabulary to articulate herself beyond empty-seeming compliments.  The faint swells of Lucina's breasts have a gentle sort of slope to them that make her nipples seem to stand out a bit more, pert and wanting.  Severa palms them, trying to go more for an appreciative fondle than a dirty old man grope.  The flesh is soft and pliant beneath her fingers, rather than hard and taut.  She rubs a little, and Lucina's back arches so far into the touch that she has to brace herself on Severa's knees to keep her balance.

Lucina's breath comes quick and shallow, breaking into a little cry when Severa pinches hard at one of her nipples, then rolls over it with the pad of her thumb.  Severa sticks with soft touches that border on agonizing, watching with heated fascination as bits of Lucina's composure begin to crumble.  When Severa presses her lips to her sternum, Lucina gasps, clutching Severa's knees so tightly that her fingernails dig in through the leggings.  Giddy with her own arousal, Severa kisses loose circles around Lucina's breasts, pausing occasionally to drag her tongue across the skin.  Lucina's skin, usually cool, is now flushed and warm with a mounting urgency that makes Severa thrill.

She makes a brief detour to Lucina's bruised collarbone, licking and kissing up the mark, then following it back down its diagonal course to one of Lucina's breasts.  Pressing the flat of her tongue over one of Lucina's nipples yields a low, throaty moan, the kind that almost makes Severa want to give in, let Lucina pin her down to the bed, and fuck her until she begs.  Lucina's back is arched so far that her hips are up in the air, so Severa reluctantly moves one hand to Lucina's lower back to guide her back down.  Almost immediately upon making contact, Lucina grinds up against Severa's thigh, setting a haphazard and frenzied rhythm in an attempt to build some friction.  Severa realizes that she can't just spend the entire night pawing at Lucina's chest, and wishes she'd been a little more attendant to what Lucina wanted.

"Okay, I get the message," she murmurs, tugging at the drawstrings to Lucina's leggings.  This close, it takes some maneuvering, but Severa manages to slide her hand down into Lucina's underwear, fingers parting her gingerly.  Lucina is slick and hot, her clit stiff against the heel of Severa's hand.  Severa presses her palm up, and Lucina cries out sharply, as if she's been struck.  It shouldn't be nearly as arousing as it is, seeing Lucina so undone and so full of raw desire, relinquishing command of herself.  Severa wonders if maybe it's cathartic for Lucina the way it is for her, to cede to someone else so utterly just to unburden yourself for a short while.  She slides a finger into Lucina, only intending to go to the first knuckle, and finds that Lucina is quite ready to take more.  Withdrawing, she shoves two inside in one go, aiming for the kind of tightly controlled brusqueness Lucina always uses on her.

"Severa," Lucina gasps, thrusting her hips forward and down with such force that Severa nearly falls back onto the cot.  She holds steady, though, dragging her crooked fingers along the curve of Lucina's walls, still kissing and sucking at her breasts as well.  Putting a bit more pressure into her fingertips, Severa searches out Lucina's sweet spot, grinding and massaging hard up and down until Lucina cries out again.  She works Lucina harder, using the hand on her back to guide her down until Lucina's practically fucking herself on her fingers, head tossed back and hair streaming down behind her.

She looks stunning like this, breasts bouncing a little with the forceful way she rocks into Severa's fingers.  Her eyelashes are butterfly-light on her cheeks, which burst with red in the low lamplight.

"Outside," groans Lucina suddenly.  "Severa, please, I--" cutting herself off with a shuddering moan that knocks the wind from Severa as surely as the blow from her sword.  It takes Severa a muddled moment to understand what "outside" is even supposed to mean until it occurs to her that Lucina is probably talking about her fingers.  She slips them out of Lucina's tight warmth, tracing over the contours of Lucina's entrance.

"Like this?"  Her voice sounds high and alien, totally lacking in the heady sense of conquest that always seems to imbue Lucina's when their situations are reversed.

"Please," Lucina repeats, eyes opening just enough for her Brand to twinkle hazily.  Severa swears her heart nearly flips at the sight, and she has to clench her thighs together in a vain attempt to shut out the needy ache.  Her fingers slick, she moves them up to Lucina's clit.  This, she can do--she knows what Lucina likes, and she's willing, desperate to give it to her.  She runs the tip of one of her fingers up and down the shaft of Lucina's clit in short, quick strokes, building friction against the wet skin.  Lucina's reaction is nigh-on immediate, her entire body tensing like she's afraid she'll lose her momentum if she relaxes for even a second.  She alternates jerkily between thrusting her hips up against Severa's finger and just tensing, so tight that her knees against Severa's thighs almost hurt.

Severa keeps her lips pressed flush against the skin of Lucina's chest, feeling her heartbeat in a way that borders on carnal.  The lines of Lucina's body are writ frantic, so much so that Severa would worry if Lucina weren't so eager.

"Come on then," Severa grinds out breathlessly.  "This is how you like it, right?  Come on, Lucina," and Lucina's voice reaches a desperate, yielding crescendo, all short, incoherent noises.  Severa presses down hard, rubbing Lucina's clit with the length of her finger, willing her to come half from adoration and half from a desire to get herself off.  Lucina abruptly shifts her position to grip Severa's shoulders instead, thighs trembling with the strain as she holds herself taut.  Severa looks up just in time to see Lucina's eyes go wide and bright, her lips falling open in a surprisingly delicate little gasp as her hips jerk forward with her orgasm.  For an instant, Severa almost stops touching Lucina entirely, but then renews the relentless pressure until Lucina's ridden it all out and exhaled so deeply that Severa wonders if there's any air left in her at all.

Slowly, Severa removes her slick fingers from Lucina's leggings, and Lucina immediately curls in to rest her head against the crook of Severa's neck.  Puffs of Lucina's breath float up to Severa's uncovered skin, and the sensation would be maddening if Lucina weren't so tranquil in her stillness.  She awkwardly runs her fingers through Lucina's sweat-tangled hair, making a point of using the hand that hadn't just been crammed inelegantly between Lucina's legs.  Undoing the little knots in Lucina's hair is something that Severa doesn't have to think about, letting the quiet yawn between them and weighing her own lingering arousal against the fact that she could very comfortably fall asleep right here and now.  These are the kinds of vulnerable sides she loves to see in Lucina, the ones that almost make her feel special by proxy of Lucina's radiant fallibility.  

"I believe we can call that one your win," Lucina says suddenly.  Snapped out of her daze, Severa has no idea what Lucina means until she looks up at her (which is odd enough) and adds, "That makes the score two to one in your favor."  A wry, unbelieving laugh escapes Severa's lips.

"Gawds, I thought I was the only one petty enough to be keeping score."  Rather than responding immediately, Lucina lays Severa down on the cot with no resistance.  The vulnerable openness is gone from her countenance, replaced with the self-assured dominion that instantly has Severa aching with need all over again.

"We'll have to go for a fourth round, then," Lucina replies.  "I'm feeling somewhat competitive today."


End file.
